In Search of Sirius: the Land of the Living Dead
by JinnyJ
Summary: Harry (predictably) has been brooding over his Godfather's death. He, Ron and Hermione have discovered how to brew a potion enabling them to enter the underworld and look for Sirius. Dumbledore sends Snape to find them. Then Voldemort does so as well...Pa
1. Chapter One: Essence of Mag Mell

  
  
Harry was breathing hard. He was cowered in a corner of Snape's dungeon, watching as the Potions Master slowly turned round and round and peered mistrustfully into the shadows. Snape then stretched out his arms and groped along the walls as if he suspected that, somewhere in this room, lurked Harry Potter in his invisibility cloak. Harry swallowed silently and sank lower to the floor.  
  
This worked. Snape's fumbling arms went right over his head. Finally, with a snarl of rage, Snape swung around and swept out of the dungeon.  
  
Harry let out his breath in a relieved sigh, and gingerly followed in his wake. He was heading for the Room of Requirement, where Ron and Hermione were waiting for him. Everything should now be ready. _He was going to get Sirius back!_ Excitement fizzed along his veins as he ghosted quietly along the familiar corridors.

* * *

"Albus! I must speak with you!"  
  
Dumbledore looked up from the piles of papers on his desk and peered over his half-moon glasses. Snape was looming over him with a dramatic air.  
  
"Messages from the Ministry every other minute," he sighed, pushing the notes in front of him to one side. "I'm thinking about moving into the Owlery. Yes, Severus, how may I help you?"  
  
Snape delicately removed a piece of fluff from the sleeve of his robes.  
  
"It's that Potter boy."  
  
"Harry? Ah yes, Severus. What has been doing to upset you now?" (Apart from breathing, Dumbledore silently added to himself.)  
  
"He takes liberties, Albus. I have warned you of this on a number of occasions –"  
  
_How true_, thought Dumbledore. "Yes," he agreed patiently. "I know. But I'm sure you did not come here simply to tell me that, Severus. What in particular has he been doing to draw down your wrath?"  
  
Snape's black eyes sparked. "He has stolen something. Yet again, he has broken into my Potions store -"  
  
"Your Potions store? Are you sure it was Harry, Severus, and what is it you suspect he has taken?"  
  
"It must have been Potter. Only Potter has an invisibility cloak. Why you persist in letting him retain such a dangerous –" He coughed. "Yes, well. The other reason I am convinced the thief is Potter is because of what was taken."  
  
Dumbledore made an encouraging movement with his hand. Snape paused before he continued.  
  
"I am afraid, Albus, you will find this news disturbing. The ingredients missing are those needed for the final touches in brewing Essence of Mag Mell."  
  
"Mag Mell…?" Dumbledore sat up. "Have you checked to see where Harry is now?"  
  
"No," Snape snapped, flaring his nostrils. "Funnily enough, I have better things to do than chase around the castle after that wretched Potter boy – even though _he_ seems to think this ought to be everyone's primary business in life."  
  
"Then there is no time to lose." Dumbledore strode to the door. "I would appreciate it you would accompany me, Severus. I may need you."  
  
"Certainly, Headmaster."

* * *

The noisy chatter in the Gryffindor Common Room died down in surprise when Dumbledore made his entrance through the portrait of the Fat Lady. It stopped altogether when the inhabitants of Gryffindor registered that their Potions Master was sweeping behind him.  
  
Dumbledore smiled reassuringly. "Do not be alarmed. I wonder, has anyone seen Harry recently – Harry Potter? I need a word with him."  
  
"He went out, Headmaster," piped up Colin Creevey, who could normally be relied on to have a good idea of Harry's whereabouts. "It was quite a while ago, actually, and he had Ron and Hermione with him."  
  
Snape twisted his lip sardonically. Naturally, Ron and Hermione would have been with him. Granger and the youngest Weasley boy were almost as bad as Potter himself. Only almost, of course.  
  
As they strode back along the corridor, Snape saw that Dumbledore was looking rather pale. Snape let out his breath in a grumpy sigh. Normally, he enjoyed other people's discomfiture. On the whole, he found it a more acceptable means of indulging his spleen than mayhem, torture and murder. (That was part of the Dark Lord's trouble: he had no sense of perspective.) However, Dumbledore inspired him with a feeling not so very distant from what might in anyone else be termed affection. Dumbledore, he knew, had a curious attachment to Potter. Far too trusting, Dumbledore, he thought to himself: not without irony. He was very aware that others shared this point of view entirely, except it was with respect to himself.  
  
The words were out before he knew what he was saying.  
  
"We will need to check out the castle and grounds thoroughly, of course. But I suppose, if you wish me to, I could always go in after them - should it be necessary."  
  
Dumbledore stopped in his tracks. "My dear Severus. What a very generous offer. Have you undertaken this journey before?"  
  
Snape shook his head. No-one in their right minds would make this journey unless absolutely obliged to, or unless they had Potter's apparently unshakeable belief in his own invincibility.  
  
"It will be dangerous." Dumbledore warned.  
  
"I am aware of this."  
  
"How will you find them?"  
  
"I shall follow the trail of destruction, chaos and the blundering good fortune of fools. At the end of this path, I have no doubt I will locate Potter and his friends."  
  
"Severus, I will be deeply in your debt if you do see fit to undertake this task."  
  
Snape shrugged indifferently. His inner thoughts, however, were something along the lines: _Have you gone completely out of your mind? (which must be much tinier than you have always supposed.)_

* * *

Peculiarly enough, this was just what Hermione was thinking. She knew Harry would not have been able to brew this potion on his own. It was far too complicated. It was, she thought (not without a trace of smugness) something that only real adepts could hope to bring off.  
  
Adepts and thieves. She shuddered to contemplate Snape's reaction when he noticed that his precious Potions Store had been raided yet again. Harry and Ron were blithely convinced that even if he noticed someone had broken in, he would not realize for what purpose. Hermione was not so sure. She suspected the dark glitter in Snape's eyes betrayed a powerful intellect. It would not be impossible for him to put two and two together….  
  
"Don't be silly, Hermione," Ron had said sweepingly. "How could anyone realize what we are up to just because we've taken a couple of random ingredients? We managed to get most of the stuff in Hogsmeade…"  
  
"Because," Hermione had explained patiently, "if you know what you are doing, these are not random ingredients. They are always used in potions to do with resisting death. Snape could quite easily guess what potion we want to make…"  
  
"Yeah, but how?" Ron demanded. He did look a shade uneasy.  
  
"How?" Hermione looked at him in disbelief. "Harry has spent the last two months either not talking at all or talking about Sirius, and you want to know how Snape will guess which particular death potion we are interested in?"  
  
"Yeah, well – " At that moment, Harry returned; Ron and Hermione exchanged glances and shut up. This was pretty much par for the course over recent weeks.  
  
"I got them," he said triumphantly. "Bane's bane, Wolfshead, and Concentrate of Sea Onion!"  
  
"Oh good," Hermione muttered under her breath. "Right, give them here."  
  
The Potion they had been brewing was so dark it seemed to absorb colour from around it. Wreaths of mist breathed from its black surface. Hermione took the herbs, now chopped into the recommended sizes and shapes, and one by one she added them to the brew. She intoned the proper incantations. The mixture slowly turned from the dullest of blacks to what looked like liquid starlight.  
  
"Wow, Hermione!" said Ron.  
  
She did not bother to reply. She took out the three bottles she had spelled earlier, filled them to the brim, and silently passed them to her two friends.  
  
"Now," she said. "We need to go stand in the light of the full moon by the edge of still waters. Harry - " She hesitated. "Harry, are you really sure this is such a good idea?"  
  
"Yes," he replied mulishly. "But you don't have to come. In fact it's probably better if you don't.. I mean it will be a risk... I don't want you getting hurt..."  
  
They had been through this argument so many times that Harry was not surprised when neither Hermione nor Ron took the slightest bit of notice. Hermione and Ron had both been very reluctant to aid him in this latest enterprise. However, both had been equally adamant that if he was going to do it, he would not be alone.  
  
"All right then," Harry said, trying to sound a lot more confident then he really was. "Off we go!"  
  
They slipped quietly out of the castle through one of the secret entrances revealed to them by Fred and George. The moon was full and bulbous. They were heading for the shores of the lake; there, they would take the potion.  
  
And enter, they hoped, into the Land of Mag Mell: otherwise known as the Underworld. Or at least, Harry hoped this. Hermione and Ron were both prey to rather more mixed emotions. 


	2. Chapter Two: The Shores of the Dead

"You know," Ron muttered conversationally as they scurried through the night. "I really do think this is the dumbest thing we've ever done."  
  
"We're trying to find Sirius!" Harry snapped. "How can you call that dumb? ARE YOU SAYING-?"  
  
"_Shusssh_!!!" hissed Ron and Hermione in unison.  
  
They reached the lake. The moon cast a shimmering circle of light across its black surface. It was so still. _Still as_ _death_, thought Hermione slightly hysterically. Wasn't that what people said?  
  
A noise from behind startled them. They turned, wide-eyed: two tall figures could be seen, striding in their direction.  
  
"Quickly!" urged Harry.  
  
The three picked up their potions bottles, looked at each other, and raised them to their lips.

* * *

"I think I see them," Snape said suddenly, lengthening his stride. "Albus, do you..?"  
  
"Yes…" They picked up their pace with the help of a speed-spell, and cursed the ancient charms which made it impossible for people to Apparate or Disapparate within Hogwarts.  
  
It could only have been moments later when they arrived by the lake. But it was too late.  
  
They had gone.

* * *

It was as if they had been thrust under tonnes of icy water. Flattened by it, pummelled by it, they were propelled backwards and downwards: unable to move or see or speak or breathe.  
  
Just as their lungs were burning so fiercely it seemed they must surely drown, they broke the surface of a stormy sea. They did not have time to ask how this could be; they barely had time to take a breath. Plunging towards them across the spray came a herd of white horses. Their nostrils steamed with white foam; and their eyes churned like whirlpools in their heads.  
  
Ron, Harry and Hermione were frantically treading water, still panting for breath.  
  
"Grab – a – mane," Hermione gasped suddenly, reaching towards one of the horses as it flew towards them.  
  
Both startled and puzzled, Ron and Harry nevertheless thew out their arms to do as she said. The horses slowed as they passed to allow them to catch hold. Harry scrambled on to one of their backs with surprising ease. Ron, though was floundering, his freckled face turned upwards in alarm. Harry grabbed him with a desperate hand and thrust him at one of the creatures, which obligingly paused whilst Ron found his seat. It seemed as if the creatures wished to be ridden. It was a better reception committee than Ron and Harry had hoped for.  
  
But Hermione was waving frantically at them. One hand was firmly entwined in her horse's flowing mane; with the other, she had removed her school tie, and was now yelling some charm or other. The tie wound itself into her mount's mouth as if it were reins.  
  
"_Place – ment – charm_!" she was shrieking.  
  
Still at a loss, Harry and Ron followed her lead. It was more difficult. The horses seemed to have gathered what they trying to do. They bucked and plunged. Only the hours of Quidditch practice on broomsticks enabled the two boys to keep their seats as they removed their ties and performed the charms.  
  
The horses immediately calmed down. Hermione had yelled something at hers; it seemed to be obeying, for it was skimming across the waves towards a distant shore.  
  
"Follow that horse!" both Ron and Harry told their own mounts. The horses did so, their ears flat back and their eyes rolling furiously.  
  
All three were dumped unceremoniously on the shore before the white horses highstepped away.  
  
Ron groaned. "Oh my. What a ride. Hermione, what was all that about?"  
  
"Those weren't horses, Ron," Hermione said. "They were kelpies. You know, kelpies? Don't you ever listen in class?" She did not seem to think this question worthy of an answer, for she carried straight on with her explanation. "Kelpies are water demons. They lure people into riding them, then take them away to the bottom of the sea."  
  
"And, and then-?"  
  
"They eat you."  
  
Ron and Harry gulped rather. Still, thanks to Hermione, they had survived this first part of their travels. Looking around, they saw a featureless shore flanked by great black cliffs. A light mist hung over the landscape. While it was not exactly dark, it was not what you would call bright and sunny either. It was a steely light, bright, but hard and grey at the same time.  
  
"Um – now what?"  
  
"I suppose we try to find a path," Harry replied. He stood up resolutely, and began to head for the break in the cliffs he could just make out ahead. With any luck, there would be some means of climbing to the top there. Hermione and Ron shrugged; this plan was as good as any other.  
  
They had not gone far when a figure loomed out of the mist.  
  
It was tall, very tall, and shrouded in a grey cloak. However hard she stared, Hermione could see no sign of a face within the darkness of the hood. Involuntarily, they all took a step backwards.  
  
"Why do you disturb me?" the voice demanded. It was a liquid voice – musical, yet somehow dangerous all at the same time.  
  
"Er," Harry stuttered. "I'm sorry, sir, er, ma'am. We have no wish to disturb you…"  
  
The being laughed. Or at least, that seemed to be the best way of describing the noise it made. It reminded Harry of water whispering over stones.  
  
"Then what do you propose to do, my young travellers? Without my aid, you will simply wander this shoreline forever. Is that your desire?"  
  
"No. We're – we're here to look for my Godfather!" Harry blurted.  
  
"Your Godfather? Is he one such as you, from mortal realms?"  
  
"Yes – only, only he died…."  
  
"Then," the voice whispered. "He is not here. This is the Land of the Living Dead. It is not the mortal resting place."  
  
"Yes, but," Hermione interrupted in a trembling voice. "He did not die a normal death. He fell through the Veil…"  
  
"The Veil? You speak of Great Mysteries, small one. But if he fell through the Veil, it may be you will, after all, find him here…."  
  
The figure rustled, as if pausing for thought. Then it spoke again.  
  
"I will give you three gifts for free. One for each of you, as a reward for taming the kelpies.  
  
"Firstly: you shall not kill. Hear me, mortal ones. If you kill within the realms of Mag Mell, your fate will pass beyond the writing of the gods. This does not, of course, mean that those who dwell in this place cannot kill _you_.  
  
"Secondly: take no food and consume no drink from these lands. If you do, this will be your home forever. Perhaps you do not mind this destiny. So it has been for some of your kind.  
  
"Thirdly: remember, everything has a price. Everything. You may only use what is truly your own, and what you take but do no pay for, you will forfeit in the sacrifice of your living flesh."  
  
The being turned. As it began to glide away, Harry suddenly called after it.  
  
"Please! you help us a little more?"  
  
"What wish you, mortal?" the shrouded figure breathed.  
  
"What direction do we need to go? How do I find my Godfather?"  
  
"Direction? There is no such thing as direction in the Land of Mag Mell. However, it may help you find what you seek if you first approach the Three Seers."  
  
As it left, its sliding laughter came to them on the breeze.  
  
Hermione frowned. There was something about this advice she found deeply disturbing…. 


	3. Chapter Three: The Eye That Sees

Harry would probably have been disappointed in the Room of Requirement. When Snape stood opposite the tapestry of Barnabas the Barmy, and thought hard about his need to find the potion Potter and his friends had been brewing, the Room obligingly presented him with the door to gain entrance.  
  
Snape stalked inside and poked the silvery liquid in the cauldron with his wand. Despite himself, he was impressed. Obviously Hermione had had the sense not to let Potter or Weasley anywhere near her labours: this was as well-brewed a potion as he had ever seen. And, as he had hoped, she had prudently made more than she needed in case of accidents.  
  
There was enough, he calculated. He took out his own potions bottle, and poured what remained of the Essence of Mag Mell inside. He added this to the small cache of materials in the pockets of his voluminous robes.  
  
He was ready. He swept back out into the night. He settled himself by the side of the lake and waited for the moon to emerge, once more full and bright, from behind the obscuring clouds. Had anyone observed him, they would have been put in mind of a large, roosting bat.

* * *

"Well, that helped!" said Harry sardonically. "We now need to find the Three Seers, whatever they may be, in a direction we don't know – except, oh, there aren't any directions here anyway!"  
  
"She said something," Hermione said, her eyes glazed with thought. "She said without her help we would walk these shores forever. Something she said is the clue…."  
  
Ron and Harry raised their eyebrows.  
  
"No directions," Hermione muttered. "No directions…OK… got it, I think!… If there are no directions, there isn't any path we can follow… that must mean it isn't which _way_ we go that matters, it's the place we are _going_ to. Right, come on, then."  
  
She looked round in surprise. Harry and Ron remained still, staring at her in bemusement as she began to set off across the beach.  
  
"Come on," she repeated. "Think about the Three Seers. That's how you get from one place to another here….I think," she added, a little less certainly.  
  
To Harry and Ron's amazement, as they walked the shoreline began to change. It was like walking through a tunnel of moving images. The wet, grey sand shifted into stringy grass. The sea became a rolling plain. And the steely light softened into a sunlit morning.  
  
"This is more like it," said Ron, cheering up.  
  
They strolled for sometime across the grassy landscape. Their clothes began to steam as they dried off in the warmth of the sun. A few trees broke the skyline, but there was little enough to see. There was also no hint of any danger. They began to relax a little.  
  
After a time, they saw ahead of them a small cottage nestled in a copse of trees. As they crept closer, they saw three old women were sitting outside, working at looms. Cautiously, they moved towards them.  
  
"Shuttle and spin, shuttle and spin," one of them was warbling.  
  
"Bobbin and pin, bobbin and pin," crooned another.  
  
"Sisters!" The third interrupted sharply. "There are strangers close by, I hear them…"  
  
"The eye, the eye, who has the eye…."  
  
"I do!"  
  
The one who had spoken last swung about. Her face was ancient, and framed with strings of grey-white hair. She did not have eye sockets in the normal way, but one great eye in the middle of her forehead. It reminded Harry forcibly of Mad-Eye's magical eye. "_Ugh, creepy_!" exclaimed Ron softly. As the other two old women also turned to face them, they saw that the sockets in the middle of their foreheads gaped blind and empty.  
  
"What is it, sister? Who disturbs our weaving?"  
  
"What have we here, what have we here…Children, my sisters. Mortal children.…."  
  
"Mortal children? Do they have eyes, my sister?"  
  
"Are they a gift? Do they bring us their eyes?"  
  
"Who has sent them to us?"  
  
Harry steeled himself and took a few steps forward. "No-one has sent us to you! At least…the lady by the shore suggested we come...but – we need your help!"  
  
"The lady by the shore…………ahhhhhh." The crone who spoke let out a long sigh as if savouring the thought. "She sent you, did she? The lady by the shore…"  
  
"Our help, you say? You want our help?"  
  
"Yes," Harry drove on. "I need to know where my Godfather is, Sirius Black. Can you help?"  
  
"Can we help, can we help?"  
  
"He asks if he we can help."  
  
The three old women cackled together as if Harry had cracked a particularly amusing joke.  
  
"Of course we can help," the one with the eye said. "The question is, why should we?"  
  
"We offer you a trade," put in another.  
  
"The girl."  
  
"It would be good to have a girl. We would have three eyes then…."  
  
"And we will tell you how to find your Godfather."  
  
The three of them nodded in the sunlight, smiling gently.  
  
"No way!" Harry said angrily. "Isn't there anything else we can do? Chop wood or something….Fetch water…"  
  
"Let me look at the girl, sister. Pass me the eye." The old woman with the eye popped it out of her head and passed it to the woman who had spoken. She slid it into her own eye socket. "Oh yes. Oh yes. Nice…."  
  
Hermione was beginning to feel distinctly nervous. At the same time, she knew she had heard of these three crones before. She dug in the corners of her memory; then turned to Ron, who was standing beside her, and whispered frantically in his ear. Ron stared at her for a long moment, and then took off at a run towards the old women. Harry watched him in alarm. "What..?"  
  
"Here!" Ron yelled, darting behind the blind woman farthest away from the one with the eye. "Here, I'm here…see what I'm doing…"  
  
"The eye!" shrieked the woman, stretching out her hand to take it from her sister and turning on Ron in fury. He wriggled out from her grasp and darted in the opposite direction to harass the woman who had had the eye before.  
  
"Pass it back!" the crone howled.  
  
As one sister passed the eye to another, Hermione pulled out her wand.  
  
"_ACCIO_ EYE" she yelled.  
  
In the moment of the eye exchanging hands, it shot out of the sisters' grasp and zoomed towards Harry and Hermione.  
  
_Just a snitch_, Harry thought. _Just a large, slippery snitch_…He stretched out his hand and grabbed the eye. It felt peculiar, like an overgrown oyster. Disturbingly, it continued to glare at him as he held it.  
  
The old women broke into loud wails.  
  
"Again!"  
  
"Tricked! Again!"  
  
"BE QUIET!" yelled Harry, deciding this was the only way to cut in on their yowling. "I've got your eye, right? I'm not hurting it, I'm not going to do anything to do it… Just tell me where I can find Sirius and I'll give you it back."  
  
"Tricked," wept the women. "Oh our eye, our eye, our eye…" Finally one of them said bitterly: "Clever children, to trick poor old women. Brave children, to cheat old crones. Your Godfather is in the Palace of Bones. Now our eye…give us our eye…."  
  
"Promise," said Harry firmly," that if I give you this back, you will not harm us, and you will let us go."  
  
"_We_ won't harm you," the woman said. A malicious tone was in her voice which made Hermione look thoughtful. Now give us our eye."  
  
Very gingerly, Harry walked up to them and dropped the still glowering eye into one of their outstretched hands. He backed away fast, then turned, and ran as quickly as he could to rejoin Ron and Hermione. Together, they sprinted away from the cottage and its inhabitants until they could run no longer. Behind them, a horn sounded.  
  
"Right," said Ron with forced cheer. "Got through that one all right, then, eh? So now we're heading for this… Palace of Bones…That sounds like fun."  
  
"Yes," muttered Harry. "I dunno…something is wrong."  
  
The cry of a horn reverberated once more: louder.  
  
There seemed to be more trees than there had been before. And surely it was darker? The grasslands seemed to be vanishing beneath the march of forest. The horn rang out yet again.  
  
Now, they could hear the baying of hounds, deep-throated and savage.  
  
"_Ohhhh noo_," moaned Hermione. "_Nooo_…"  
  
"What?" Ron and Harry demanded together, gazing wildly around as the trees closed in.  
  
"I think," Hermione said faintly, "I think the old women have called out the Wild Hunt…."  
  
Above the canopy of trees, across the darkening sky, nine figures rode. Antlers reared on their leader's head. Before and behind them swarmed a pack of giant hounds, whose coats gleamed white, but whose ears burned furnace red.  
  
"_We hunt_!" an exultant voice roared out. "_Ride, ride, ride to the hunt_!"  
  
The horn sounded again: this time with the all the thrill and urgency of a kill at hand. 


	4. Chapter Four: Hunters from the Sky

  
  
"Hermione," said Ron in a trembling voice, "I'm not quite sure what this Wild Hunt of yours is, but I'm guessing it's nothing good…"  
  
"No. No, it's not! Harry, I don't know what to do! The Wild Hunt are… well, _wild_."  
  
Hermione looked around fearfully. The baying of the hounds was still some way overhead, but the sound was definitely getting closer.  
  
"They're not after rabbits, then?" Ron asked weakly.  
  
"I would say not," Harry replied tensely as the noise of the Hunt took shape all around them. They huddled together, wands out, but with no idea what kind of magic might be effective against such a fearsome opponent.  
  
The noise of the hounds become overpowering. Hermione whimpered and clasped her hands to her ears. Above the tumult of the pack, the note of a horn soared and soared again.  
  
"Harry…" Hermione squeaked.  
  
But Harry's mind was blank.  
  
The trees seemed to ease apart to allow the passage of the Hunt. The hounds bounded towards their quarries, uttering great yelping cries, then crouched before them, growling. Their red ears flicked alertly, and their huge jaws slavered. Harry, Hermione and Ron took a step backwards, turned to flee, and found more hounds poised menacingly all around them.  
  
An immense figure rode through the trees. Massive antlers rose from his head. He was dressed all in red, yet somehow he still loomed through the forest like a tower of darkness. Behind him followed a number of other shadowy horsemen. His voice, when he spoke, reminded Harry of a mountain moving.  
  
"WHO TRESPASSES ON OUR LANDS?" he demanded. He did not speak loudly, as such, but his speech nevertheless boomed through the gathering dark.  
  
"Uh - er, we, we're sorry, sir, we didn't know we were trespassing…"  
  
"WE WERE WOKEN."  
  
"That – that wasn't us, we're sorry – " Harry gabbled, looking up in dread at the vast figure before them.  
  
The horse stamped and whinnied piercingly. "PATIENCE, ERLANDIS. WE WILL RIDE AGAIN SOON.  
  
"YOU STINK OF NEW MAGIC, MORTAL ONES. WHY DO YOU BRING THE RUIN OF OUR RACE INTO THESE REALMS?"  
  
Harry looked helplessly at Hermione for guidance. "They're old magic, Harry," she breathed back. "Old magic, blood magic, from the beginnings of days - before human civilization, before wizards…The new world drove them out…into exile…."  
  
Ron raised his hand to his mouth. "I do hope," he muttered sideways, "they aren't taking that _personally_…"  
  
"I, I'm just looking for my friend," Harry blurted. "My Godfather…"  
  
The shadowed face was silent. It seemed to be pondering something. "YOU BEAR THE TRACES OF OLD MAGIC, TOO, CHILD. HOW IS THIS?"  
  
Harry gaped. Old magic? What..? Suddenly a memory floated through his mind. Dumbledore, speaking of his mother, who had died to save him…how this gave him the protection of an ancient magic, blood magic, flowing through his veins….  
  
"My mother," he stuttered. "My mother's blood."  
  
"AH." The antlered figure inclined his great head. "SINCE YOU BEAR EVEN THIS MUCH OF OUR HERITAGE, CHILD, WE WILL LET YOU PASS. IT IS GOOD TO KNOW THAT NOT ALL IN THE UPPER REALMS HAVE ENTIRELY FORGOTTEN THE WAYS OF OLD."  
  
His steed reared suddenly, with a scream of anticipation. "_WE HUNT. RIDE, RIDE, TO THE HUNT_…."  
  
The hounds, the horsemen, and the antlered leader whirled around and thrust themselves skyward. Horses stamped, and sweated, and the hot breath of the hounds beat at the teenagers' faces. The Hunt took off with cries of furious anticipation. The baying of the hounds howled through the night, fading swiftly into distant yelps.  
  
Harry, Hermione and Ron collapsed onto the forest floor in relief.  
  
"Oh my goodness. Oh my goodness," Hermione muttered.  
  
"Harry," said Ron solemnly. "I think I just discovered something more scary than spiders."

* * *

Snape stood on the shoreline with folded arms, gazing into the distance. When the tall, cloaked figure glided towards him, he cast it barely a glance.  
  
"Stranger," the liquid voice breathed. "What would you have?"  
  
Snape spoke carefully. "I seek nothing from this realm which is not mine to take. I am in search of that which is lost."  
  
"The children…"  
  
Snape did not respond.  
  
"Would you like me to tell you where you can find the children?" The being's voice flowed over him like molten honey.  
  
"No."  
  
"You are ungracious, mortal visitor."  
  
Snape shrugged, and continued to stare into the distance. Finally, he nodded to himself, and strode off, his robes flapping around his heels.

* * *

"You know," Ron commented nervously, "I really don't think I like this place."  
  
"It's taken you all this time to reach that conclusion?" Hermione was stepping briskly forwards. "The sooner we get out of this forest the better…Keep thinking of the Palace of Bones, remember. I wouldn't like to get lost in this realm."  
  
The landscape this time was changing only slowly: almost lazily. The light levels had, however, increased. Pale sunlight did filter down through the thinning trees. This heartened all three of them. Somehow everything seemed less terrible in the daylight.  
  
By now, they were all thirsty and hungry. "I wish," said Hermione, "that we had thought to bring some food... or at least a bottle of water."  
  
"Yeah," Harry agreed. "We'll be joining the Land of the Dead for real if we don't get a move on." He patted his pocket to make sure his potion bottle was still there. It would be a disaster if they lost those….and with them their way back…  
  
"I can't help feeling," said Hermione, "that it is all too quiet. I mean, there's a reason why people don't just pop across here for Sunday jaunts…"  
  
"Hermione!" protested Ron. "That is not something to complain about! And anyway, you mean too quiet _besides_ the carnivorous horses, the creepy old hags and the hounds of hell? "  
  
She smiled slightly. They were definitely moving out of the forested lands. The trees were growing further and further apart.  
  
They walked on. They were weary now, and very thirsty indeed.  
  
"Do you think those old hags were having us on?" Ron asked anxiously. "About this Palace of Bones business?"  
  
"I don't think they can," Hermione answered him seriously. "The rules of this place aren't like ours…Beings here can mislead, and torment, but they can't actually lie to us."  
  
Harry had been silent for a long while. That had been a close call with the Wild Hunt. Perhaps he should not have come; what if he lost Ron or Hermione as well? He had tried to get them to stay behind….He strengthened his resolution by thinking of Sirius. They would find him, and they would give him some of their potion, and they would take him back to Hogwarts with them. He would have his Godfather back.  
  
The sun was setting when they came to the stone table. None of them know what this meant in terms of actual passage of time, or how long they had really been in the Land of Mag Mell.  
  
The table was a huge slab of rough grey stone. They approached it with caution. Was there something they had to do here in order to reach the Palace of Bones? As the rays of the setting sun bathed the table in its pinkish light, Hermione let out a small scream.  
  
A man had appeared on the table from out of nowhere. He was chained hand and foot. His grey beard was long and unkempt. He stared at the sky in hopeless resignation. Suddenly, the sky was full of a strange cawing noise.  
  
"Kaaa – kaaa – kaaa."  
  
Birds swooped down from the sky. They seemed to blot out the sky, but probably there were only twenty or thirty of them. Hermione, Harry and Ron dropped to the ground, instinctively covering their eyes. Peering between his fingers, Harry saw that these birds were large, larger than ravens. They had a feral look about them and – he stared sickly. Their beaks – their beaks were made of bone, and charred with blood….  
  
"Kaaa – kaaa – kaaa."  
  
"The man on the table," Harry whispered. "Oh –! that man on the table!" He made to get up and found himself fiercely pulled down by Ron and Hermione.  
  
"Kaaa – kaaa – kaaa."  
  
A storm of wings beat around them. They birds stank of death. They fed for a long time. When they had finished, they swooped about in fierce circles.  
  
"Kaaa – kaaa – kaaa."  
  
"Oh no – they're coming for us!" Harry yelled frantically. "Quick –"  
  
But there was nowhere to hide, and the birds could fly faster than they could run.

* * *

_Aaahhhhh_. Voldemort breathed a long, contented sigh. "Good news, Nagini....Harry Potter has left the protection of that old fool Dumbledore and of his mother's family...."  
  
His lipless mouth pulled back into a smile.  
  
"At last...Harry Potter has plagued me for too long. I have an instrument to hand, Nagini...finally, it is the end for Harry Potter."  
  
His thin, high laugher rang triumphantly out. 


	5. Chapter Five: The Shade of Voldemort

The birds beat about their heads, flapping with powerful wings.  
  
"_Protego_," cried Harry, waving his wand as he tried to fend one of them off.  
  
"_Impedimenta_!" shrieked Hermione.  
  
"_Stupefy_!" That was Ron.  
  
None of the curses had the slightest effect. They were bleeding now, from the creatures' vicious pecks. Their arms were curled around their heads.  
  
_"NUTRIRENS!_" shouted a fourth voice.  
  
The birds wheeled around.  
  
"Kaaaa – kaaa – kaaa."  
  
Looking up, Harry saw with astonishment that Snape was standing a few yards away. He was pulling what appeared to be pieces of bread from his pocket, and tossing it the birds; they were diving down hungrily to eat it. Their cries muted.  
  
Snape strode over.  
  
"Well, Potter," he drawled. "What a …pleasant….surprise."  
  
"Those birds…" Harry gasped, too shocked to really take in the presence of Snape.. "What –"  
  
"Bane Birds," Snape said dismissively, with a supercilious curl of the lip. "Easily neutralised with a simple feeding spell. They are only dangerous at sunset anyway. They are harmless at any other time."  
  
"And that man, that man on the table – "  
  
"A dream. A memory. Once, long ago, a man named Prometheus angered the gods….It is well you did not try to save him, Potter, or you would have shared his fate. Ah, you did want to try? Yes.. I rather thought you might…."  
  
"What are you _doing_ here?" Harry blurted. "And how did you find us?"  
  
Snape raised his eyebrows. "Well, Potter, oddly enough Professor Dumbledore seemed to think you might be rather out of your depth in this little venture of yours. That is why I am here.  
  
"As to how I located you, do you not even know that our kind of wizardry stands out in this place of old magic like a beacon? I am disappointed, Miss Granger. I thought that you, at least, might have stirred yourself to do some elementary research. Or is the belief that you already know everything too firmly embedded for you to have taken the trouble?"  
  
"Leave Hermione alone!" Ron put in fiercely. "She's been great, we'd never have got this far without her…"  
  
"That, at least," Snape said nastily, "I can well believe."  
  
Harry's ire was gradually rising.  
  
"Stop talking to us like that!" he snapped at Snape. "We're not at Hogwarts now!"  
  
"No," Snape returned silkily. "We are not, are we? The question only remains, how best to get of all us back there."  
  
"Back?" Harry exclaimed incredulously. "I'm not going back! We're nearly there, we've got to go and get Sirius."  
  
"I'm afraid," said Snape, examining his fingernails. "you appear to be labouring beneath a misapprehension – do not point your wand at me, Mr Weasley, or I will stun you here and now!"  
  
"There are three of us," Harry stated bluntly, folding his arms. "We are not going back. "Well -" he hesitated. "I'm not- "  
  
Hermione and Ron moved closer to him, and flanked him shoulder to shoulder.  
  
"We're staying with Harry," Hermione announced  
  
"Do you have any – ". Snape stopped suddenly, as if startled. A vein began to throb in his forehead.  
  
"Wait!" he snapped out. "Wait here.. there is something I need to see about… And do not bother to run away, Mr Potter. I will find you easily enough. If you put me to that trouble I will be - less than pleased."  
  
Snape strode away. Harry, Hermione and Ron exchanged puzzled glances. They were not, however, overly curious as to where Snape had gone: merely pleased that he had done so.  
  
"Right," said Harry in a business-like way. "There's no time to lose. Concentrate, hard, on the Palace of Bones."  
  
And they fled.

* * *

Snape was clutching his arm. "What…" he muttered to himself. "How.."  
  
It took him some time before he reached the grove from which the summons had come. He flitted across the shaded landscape, refreshing himself from time to time with the water he had brought with him. Nothing, alive or dead, troubled his passage. An eerie silence lay across the land.  
  
Finally, he reached his destination. He paused, then stepped through the trees. As he entered the clearing in the centre of the grove, he flung himself prostrate on the ground.  
  
"Master…" he breathed. "I did not expect to see you here."  
  
It was not Voldemort, risen and returned. It was a shade of Voldemort, a grey and ghostly figure whose eyes flared only palely.  
  
"Snape," the Dark Lord hissed. "I have a job for you, Snape."  
  
"Anything, Master." Snape kept his face pressed close to the ground.  
  
"As you see, Snape, my mastery extends to the Land of Mag Mell…part of the enchantment which enabled me to resist death for so long binds some of my essence to this place… I have very little power here…but I can watch, from time to time…and as you see, I can also summon my faithful servants."  
  
"You are always surprising, my lord," said Snape sincerely.  
  
"Harry Potter is in this land, Snape. You know this, do you not? The fool Dumbledore sent you after him…"  
  
"That is so, my lord."  
  
"He will not leave this place, Snape. See to it."  
  
"It will be my pleasure, my lord," Snape breathed.  
  
"I shall accompany you, Snape. I will enjoy watching Harry Potter die… he has escaped me for too long now."  
  
"My master is gracious."  
  
"Come then, Snape. Lead me to Potter… I shall keep out of sight so as not to arouse his suspicions until the last moment…but I shall be there, watching…"  
  
Snape grovelled at Voldemort's ghostly feet for a few moments longer, then rose and set off once more. He divined on the wind the direction Harry, Hermione and Ron had taken from the trail their magic had burned into the air. He could no longer see Voldemort. But he knew he was there.

* * *

Harry, Hermione and Ron were parched, hungry and exhausted. They had run, and run, through grey mists which never seemed to lift and through which they could see nothing.  
  
At last, they came to the shores of a river. They collapsed, wheezing, on its banks. A boat was moored to the jetty. Harry staggered to his feet and made as if to reach out for it.  
  
"Don't!" croaked Hermione. "Remember – what – woman said. Can only use what is our own …. .might need to pay… might not like price…"  
  
Harry subsided, panting, onto the grass.  
  
"Suggestions – then – 'Mione?"  
  
Hermione was regaining her breath. "Well," she said. "I suppose we could levitate over – no, too risky, there's a breeze, it might take us off course. A thruster spell? So we can jump?"  
  
"I don't know one of those!"  
  
Hermione looked at Ron. "I do," she pointed out simply.  
  
They adopted Hermione's suggestion. The three of them landed hard on the other side of the river. As soon as their feet touched the ground, there was one of those disconcerting moments when the world span around and reorganized itself into different patterns of colour and shape.  
  
A sunny valley lay before them. Its hillsides were picture-postcard green. Bovine-looking creatures dozed in the warmth. (Ron looked at these with great suspicion. But as far as he could tell they really were only cows: not a fang in sight.)  
  
Best of all to Harry's eyes, rising majestically in the shelter of the valley was a pale and beautiful palace. It was tall, and gleamed with soft rainbows of colour as though made entirely of mother of pearl. Its fragile spires pierced the sky in a sort of lace made of bones. Under the touch of the sun, it glowed.  
  
"The Palace of Bones!" Harry whispered. His heart was starting to race. He turned to Ron and Hermione with a joyful smile. "Look! The Palace of Bones!"  
  
They picked their way speedily down the valley slopes. No danger threatened. The whole valley seemed to bask in the sunshine.  
  
"What do we do?" Hermione murmured softly as they grew nearer. "Just - go up to the front door and knock?"  
  
"I don't know," Harry said. "We'll find some way…we've got this far…"  
  
The magnificence of the Palace stunned them even more as they walked into its shadow. Peace lay on it like a mantle. Its very presence soothed them, even Harry, whose nerves were now wound up to a high pitch.  
  
A tiny door was opening in the side of the Palace. A figure came out. It was walking towards them, no, running: it was a man, young and good-looking with glossy dark hair –  
  
"SIRIUS" yelled Harry, leaping forward. "SIRIUS! Oh, Sirius –"

* * *

Snape arrived at the banks of the river.  
  
"It won't be long now, my master," he said softly. "They are close. I can feel it." 


	6. Chapter Six: At The Palace Gates

Harry burst into a run. He pelted towards Sirius with tears already beginning to gather in his eyes, his arms held wide, and his heart stopped in his chest.

Sirius grabbed Harry as soon as he could. He hugged him, hard, then swung him round.

"You seem to have grown already, Harry!" he said. "I can hardly do that now…"

Hermione and Ron were close behind Harry, clutching their hands to the stitches in their sides. Hermione's eyes suddenly widened.

"Harry!" she yelled sharply. "Don't let go!"

Harry turned his head, a huge grin on his face. He was still clutching his Godfather as if he could not believe he was real.

"I mean it, Harry!" Hermione called again. "Hold on!"

Harry opened his mouth to ask her what on earth she was talking about, when Sirius began to change in his arms. Before Harry's appalled gaze, Sirius turned into a voluptuous woman. Her lips pouted and her breasts pressed against him.

"Hello, Harry," she murmured seductively. Harry was about to raise his arms in horror and drop whatever thing it was he had in his arms, but Hermione's words finally registered.

"_Do not let go_!"

Harry clung on to the woman's shoulders. She smiled lusciously; it turned into a leer, and when she opened her mouth, it was to bare a neat array of bloodstained fangs. Harry made a revolted noise; but still, he held on.

A hiss of rage escaped the thing. It became, in swift succession, a spiny creature, which caused blood to spout from Harry's hands and arms; a dreadful slimy thing which smelt of putrefaction and worse; a butterfly, which only Harry's Seeker skills enabled him to catch and hold on to; and a rock so heavy that both it and Harry crashed to the earth. Harry narrowly avoided being squashed.

A low, churning noise of rage came from somewhere. Suddenly Harry found himself holding a fire-breathing wyvern; he narrowly dodged its fiery breath in his face, and cursed because he could not both use his wand and hang on to the thing.

But Hermione was there: jets of water streamed from the tip of her wand and extinguished its flames. It transformed into a ball of fire, too intense for any water to extinguish, and Harry screamed in pain from holding on to it. Hermione's wand was out again, and Harry found himself, disconcertingly, shaped into an icebucket. The flame changed again; Harry found himself back in his own shape, wielding an ice-axe; this was then a circular saw, which began to whir in Harry's hands; Harry became a stone wheel which locked the saw in place. With a distant screech of annoyance, the saw became a shadow; and Hermione turned Harry into a box.

"All right, all _right_," a voice said irritably. "Fine. You can let me out now."

Hermione waved her wand. Harry found himself face to face with a short individual who looked rather like what Muggles would call a gnome. (There were, of course, _real_ gnomes in the magical world; and they looked nothing like Muggles thought they did.)

"Hmph. No need to grip a fellow so hard," he said huffily, straightening his clothes.

"Who are you?" Harry demanded. Now that the adrenalin rush of the battle had begun to fade, the most enormous wave of disappointment was beginning to break over him.

"I am the Keeper," the short, fat man said with dignity. "The Watcher. The Warden. The Protec-"

"All right, all right I get the idea." Harry glared at him. "I thought you were my Godfather. Where is he?"

The Keeper gave him an enigmatic look. "He is in the Palace of Bones, of course."

"Fine. Let's be going then, shall we?" Harry said to Ron and Hermione.

"Not so fast, young gentlemen. Not so fast. You have won the right to hear the entrance fee. This means you will not get summarily executed at the door for failing to tender the correct payment." He beamed.

"Entrance fee?"

"Yes, of course. Nothing for nothing round here, my good friend. Oh no. We are the ultimate free market…which means of course that nothing is free at all…"

"Get on with it." Harry folded his arms.

"Hasty, young gentlemen, that's what you are. Hasty. Now then. Now let me see…. Ah yes. Entrance and visiting rights to the Palace of Bones. I take it you will only be requiring entrance for one?"

"What is the entrance price for three?"

"Five pints of human blood," the creature said promptly. "Spilled in the traditional way, with a sacred silver axe. But you needn't worry about that bit. We are very happy to provide the axe."

"OK, let's hear the entrance fee for one then."

"A spoonful of grain," the gnome-like being recited. "A hank of raw wool. And a handful of salt."

"Well," Harry said slowly. "That doesn't sound too bad. And if I bring these to you, to the Palace gates, I get let in?"

"Yes."

"I get to see Sirius?"

"Yes."

"Nobody will harm me while I am in there?"

"No."

"And I get to come out again?"

"In _this_ timeframe?" Hermione interjected.

"Yes, yes, yes. What do you think we are trying to do? Trick you or something?"

Harry snorted, and began to turn. "Oh – one last thing.

"What now?"

"Is there an expiry date on this deal? I mean, if I come back in three hours with all the stuff, will you say the fee has since changed and chop my head off?"

"No," the creature huffed. "This is our standing offer."

"Right. Come on, then, Hermione and Ron. Let's go and figure this one out…"

Harry's energy levels were rising again at the prospect of really, actually seeing Sirius. Ron, however, noticed the look on Hermione's face.

"Hermione…" he said hesitantly. "What is it? This doesn't sound too bad, does it? I mean, they're fairly common things to get hold of."

Hermione paused. "Harry. Oh – Harry, I don't want to disappoint you! But, these things…where are we going to get them from?"

"Well, they're all around us, aren't they? Raw wool, right over there, that looks like sheep don't you think, up on that hillside? Grain, I can see some sort of crop from here. Salt, I dunno, but it isn't exactly rare, is it - "

"But _Harry_," Hermione wailed. "Don't you remember what the woman – man – whatever – said to us at the sea shore? '_R__emember, everything has a price. Everything. You may only use what is truly your own, and what you take but do not pay for, you will forfeit in the sacrifice of your living flesh_'."

Harry set his chin. "Well, we'll give the sheep a handful of grass in payment or something."

"Which is _also_ not ours to give," Hermione pointed out.

"So what are you _suggesting_, Hermione?" Harry yelled out, whirling round on her. "That we just give up, after coming this far?

"No," Hermione began patiently, "but…"

Ron interrupted them. "Er, Harry, Hermione – I think we have other things to worry about right now as well."

They broke off, and turned in the direction towards which Ron was gesturing. Snape was standing there. He looked very tall, very grim, and a sneer was twitching around his mouth.

"Good evening, Potter," he drawled. "I think it is about time we put an end to this little comedy of yours…."


	7. Chapter Seven: Betrayals

Snape's hands were on his hips, and he regarded them with that familiar sardonic glare – as though they were, in Fred's words on a previous occasion, something not even the cat could bring itself to drag in.

"Oh bloody hell," muttered Harry. "This is all we need. Can't we put him off the scent somehow – "

"Potter," Snape pronounced. "At last, I find you."

"Er – yeah – but –"

Snape was tapping his wand against his hand in some complex pattern. Ron was watching it curiously. He caught his breath. "Harry, he's casting –"

Ron's warning was too late.

"EXPELLIARMUS!" Snape bellowed, pointing his wand directly toward them. All three of their wands flew towards him.

"Snape.. Professor Snape," Harry cried in agony. "You have to let me stay and see _Sirius_!."

"You have very curious ideas," Snape said softly, "about what I have to do. This is all very touching, Potter, but I fear you mistake the situation. Now walk."

With Snape behind them, pointing his wand at their backs, they had little choice but to do as he said. Harry had no doubt that Snape would otherwise cast some horribly humiliating spell and drag him back to Hogwarts in chains, and on his knees if necessary. Snape, in fact, would probably enjoy it.

Harry's mind flew over options. This was a dangerous and complicated land; perhaps they could use that against Snape in some way and manage to make their escape. With the way Snape felt about both Harry's father and Godfather, it was most unlikely he would be stricken with a compassionate urge and agree to allow Harry to pursue his quest.

Snape had directed them up a slope and into one of the gently wooded areas which dotted the valley hillsides.

"Stand against a tree," Snape instructed. "_Separate_ trees, Potter…!"

Puzzled, they each went and stood beside a tree, flickering wary glances among themselves. Then they gasped: too late for them to react, Snape's wand had flickered.

"_Convolvulus rapido_!"

With remarkable speed, they found themselves immobilized. Bindweed snaked and twined around each of them, enwrapping them mummy-like in a cocoon of vegetation. Hermione kicked fruitlessly against the ensnaring weed; she was going red with annoyance. Snape had left their faces free.

"Oh thanks," Harry said angrily, "I suppose we should be thankful you've left space for us to breathe!"

"Yes, Potter. You should. That, however, is an error which can – very soon – be rectified."

Harry, Hermione and Ron stared at Snape. Their jaws dropped, and icy fingers began to dribble down their spines.

"Then," Ron broke in. "But .. You – you – I thought you wanted to take us back to Hogwarts!"

"That was certainly Professor Dumbledore's plan," Snape said smoothly. "However, other – masters – had rather different ideas as to what I should do with you." Hermione opened her mouth. "And one word from you, Miss Granger, and I will wrap that weed right around your bucktoothed mouth."

Horror was coursing through Harry's body. He struggled against the bindweed, but to no avail: it had formed hawser-like bonds around him. He was trapped, wandless and helpless. And so were Ron and Hermione. Harry felt sick with rage and fear and guilt.

"What now then?" Harry demanded, raising his chin to glare at Snape directly.

"I have never thought highly of your brains, Potter," Snape sighed, "but I would have thought even your puny intelligence would be up to the task of figuring this one out."

And certainly, if any of them had cherished any lingering doubts, what happened next put paid to that. The piece of air behind Snape thickened, darkened and materialized. A shape had pushed itself into being: a cloaked and skeletal figure, with long spectral fingers and palely flaring eyes.

And so Harry found himself face to face with Voldemort: not, of course, for the first time in his life. It seemed increasingly likely, however, that it would be for the last.

Snape had dropped immediately to his knees before Voldemort's shade and was trying to press his lips to the insubstantial robe.

"My lord," he said reverently.

Voldemort hissed out a sigh, heavy with satisfaction. "This all looks very – promising, Snape. I shall remain here to watch the conclusion to a story which should have been ended long, long ago…"

_Sirius_, Harry thought wildly. Sirius wasn't very far away, he was in that castle, how could Harry let him know that he was in such trouble…? Sirius would come if he knew…

Snape had turned slowly back towards Harry and was raising his wand. A fierce light burned in his eyes. For a moment they stared at each directly, face to face. Snape was very pale; sweat gleamed on his cheeks and forehead. His hair hung, as ever, in greasy curtains. He looked, pretty much, just like he did in Potions classes at Hogwarts…Surely, surely, this could not be happening…Dumbledore wouldn't allow this to happen – _But you left the school_, a small inner voice reminded Harry. _Dumbledore was protecting you, and yet again you just sneaked off around his defences. See what has come of it…_

"Snape," Harry stammered, without conscious thought. "Professor Snape – don't – "

"Why ever not, Potter? Surely you know I have been awaiting this moment for quite some time."

"But Dumbledore," Harry gasped out desperately. His body would have been shaking violently if not for the bindweed trussing him to the tree. "He trusts you!"

"So he does." Snape smiled without mirth. "The Muggle-loving old fool."

"That woman – man – at the shore, said that you can't!" Harry was babbling now, and despised himself for it. "If you kill in this realm, she said – she said _your_ _fate will be beyond the writing of the gods!_"

"Oh? I expect she forgot to mention that this is only the case if what you kill is _from_ this realm. Which, you, Potter, are not…You see, Potter, you seem to have forgotten that this day was inevitable from the start. You cannot win. Do you not remember Bellatrix Lestrange telling you this in the Ministry of Magic? Do you not recall what Bellatrix said?"

Harry had run out of anything to say which might conceivably persuade Snape to change his mind. He thought of Sirius, of Ron, of Hermione, with acute sadness. He remembered what Voldemort had said to him when he was fourteen: "_And now you face me, like a man … straight-backed and proud, the way your father died_."

So I will, he thought fiercely. So I will. He set his jaw and stared Snape defiantly in the face. Despite himself, a single tear tracked soundlessly down his pale cheeks. His eyes were enormous. He swallowed, and waited for the bolt he knew would shortly strike him. He was vaguely aware of Ron and Hermione screaming in helpless protest.

Snape looked at Harry for a long, long moment. His eyes glinted: black and crystalline as fractured obsidian. He flicked a glance over his shoulder to where Voldemort watched and waited, a gloating smile playing around his lipless mouth.

Then, Snape uttered a harsh snarl, and pointed his wand.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

Harry's body slammed back against the tree to which he was bound. Green lightning flared. Harry's body went first rigid, then crumpled, then fall forward limply in its bonds.

The sun was not yet setting. A single Bane Bird, however, was already circling down. It perched expectantly on Harry's lolling head.

"Kaaa – kaaa – kaaa."

For that singular instant, that frozen moment, the Bane Bird's plaint of death was the only sound in the valley: as the daylight sun bled over the rim of the enfolding hills, and shadows rose to drown them.

_"Kaaa – kaaa – kaaa."_


	8. Chapter Eight: Secrets and Lies

"HARRRRYYYYYYY….!" Ron's anguished wail rent the air.

This, Hermione thought distantly, is what it feels like if someone takes a meat-hook and wrenches the insides out of your body. This, she thought, is what happens when the fundamental bindings of the universe unravel, and everything begins to fall apart. This is how Harry felt when Sirius died; how he has been feeling ever since. And now ––

Her shriek of utter fury succeeded in making Snape turn his head. His expression was so blank and mask-like he looked almost bored. But he was livid white, and sweat was pouring down his face.

_Like tears_, Hermione thought feverishly. _Sweat is pouring down Snape's face like tears…_

"You..you –" she could not push the words out from behind her grief and loathing.

"Miss Granger," he acknowledged her distantly. Then, turning and kneeling, and with profound reverence: "My lord."

"You have done well," hissed Voldemort's shade. "I am pleased."

"I live but to serve my master," whispered Snape.

"These," said Voldemort, waving a hand at Hermione and the sobbing Ron. "Despatch them."

"Yes, my lord, I thought, my lord, it would be more fitting if I simply took back the potions which enable them to return, and left them here – helpless and bound, as you see, while the Bane Birds…" Snape cast an eloquent glance upwards at the circling predators with their beaks of bone.

Voldemort's gash of a mouth stretched into what might have been a smile. "As you wish. Now, I tire… I must sleep soon… Walk with me a little way, Snape, and we can discuss our future plans before I depart."

Snape inclined his head deeply and rose to his feet. He walked out of the clearing, pace for pace with the shade of Voldemort.

"Kaaaa – aaaa – aaaa."

Sunset soon, Hermione thought hopelessly. If only Sirius would come. But even anxiety about her own and Ron's situation was smothered beneath her all-encompassing grief.

For it to end like this. Harry: the Boy Who Died; and at the hands of Snape, whom the Order trusted.

"Kaaaa – aaaa – aaaa."

Hermione wished she was close enough to Harry to swat that damned bird away. Its jagged beak was hovering just above Harry's closed eyes.

Which flickered, and then opened. Hermione gaped; she could almost have sworn she heard a small groan come from between Harry's lips.

Hermione screwed up her eyes, and looked again.

"H…H…Harry?" _It's the Land of the Living Dead_, she thought frantically. _Maybe he's come back. But no, surely that was not possible, not possible…_

Harry blinked at her wonderingly and managed to shape his mouth into a smile.

"I feel as though I've been kicked by a mule," Harry whispered hoarsely. "But I'm alive. Ron, Hermione, really. I'm alive."

Harry's voice had penetrated the wall of grief surrounding Ron. He, too, gaped at Harry, his jaw dropping, a disbelieving smile spreading across his face. Tears and mucous still dripped down his nose and cheeks.

"Maybe," he said in awe, sniffing heavily, "maybe that curse just doesn't work against you, Harry! I mean, that's the second time!"

Harry grinned.

"Yeah, right.."

"Or maybe," Snape cut across them softly, "you just don't listen, Potter."

Harry, Hermione and Ron all stiffened and turned their heads in the direction of his voice. Snape had approached on cat-like feet; he was standing just a few yards away, implacable in black, with his arms folded across his chest.

"_No!_" Hermione whispered, her eyes dilating.

"I told you, Potter," continued Snape, "to recall what Bellatrix Lestrange had said to you in the Ministry of Magic. Tell me, Potter. What did she say?" He was strolling towards Harry as he spoke.

"She said – well, she said I couldn't win against her," Harry said flatly, gazing at Snape in bemusement. Snape had taken from his pocket what looked like a pen-knife. He eyed the blade with some trepidation. He was not sure he liked having Snape so close to his throat with a knife. "She, er, she said I could never hope to compete."

"And what about the Unforgivable Curses, Potter?" Snape asked. He was sawing through the bindweed. The sun was beginning to lower yet further in the sky. More Bane Birds began to circle down towards them. The one hovering above Harry's head clacked its beak expectantly.

Snape muttered crossly, and dug in his pocket. "NUTRIRENS!" he shouted, casting bread as far away from them as possible. Hermione and Ron were watching him suspiciously. They were not convinced this was not just some other ploy.

"The Unforgivable Curses, Potter. What did she tell you about them?"

"She said," Harry's voice slowed. "She said 'You need to _mean_ them'. She said you cannot cast an Unforgivable Curse properly unless you really want to hurt the person." Harry looked down. Snape was sawing at the bindweed around his legs. "You didn't, did you? That's why I'm alive…"

"Then why the bloody hell," Ron half-shouted through his blocked nose, "did you put us through all this?"

Harry, freed of his bonds, sat down with his back against the tree. His legs didn't feel quite ready to hold him up yet. Snape released Ron, dug in his pocket, and passed him a large handkerchief.

"Here you are, Mr Weasley. And before you ask, treat it as a gift. I do not want it back."

Snape paused.

"Consider. Dumbledore had sent me here to protect you. Once I was here, Voldemort summoned me to tell me to kill you. And he was going to stand at my shoulder, watching to make sure I fulfilled his…demands. You are very vulnerable in this land, Harry… By the time the Dark Lord realizes that you are not in fact dead, you will, I trust be safely back at Hogwarts."

"Oh," Harry said blankly. "Er, Professor Snape – I'm sorry I thought you were, well, trying to murder me."

"I was working very hard to give the Dark Lord that impression. If I were not even capable of fooling _you_, Potter, I would have remarkably little chance of ever fooling Lord Voldemort. However.." Snape stopped sawing at Hermione's ropes for a moment and stared out into the approaching night, his hair shrouding his face. "I would like you to be aware, Potter, that I did not actually – enjoy – the experience."

"Yeah well, you fooled us all right!" said Ron grumpily. His voice still shook somewhat. "It was that whole death curse thing that did it! Well convincing, that was!"

Snape drew out his bottle of water and took a long swig. Three pairs of eyes followed it longingly.

"You mean – Oh, tell me you did at least bring water!"

With resignation, he handed the flask over to Harry, who took a careful swig.

"It's charmed to AutoRefresh, Potter. You may all drink freely." Snape watched them sardonically. "And now, finally, we can find our way back to Hogwarts. I shall rarely have been so glad to return to its confines."

Harry stared at him. "But, Sirius: we haven't got him yet!"

Snape raised his eyebrows and looked haughtily down his nose at them.

"We need three things though," Hermione chipped in, fixing Snape with a look Harry could not quite interpret. "We need a spoonful of grain, a hank of raw wool, and a handful of salt."

"And we don't know how to get them, since anything we took we would have to pay for…"

"Your point?" Snape addressed himself to Hermione.

"I think you could get those for us." She had a most determined look on her face.

"And why on earth, Miss Granger, do you think I would do this? You may have noticed that I have just gone to really quite some trouble to release you from the attentions of the Dark Lord. Do you suppose I wish to waste all that effort, and return and tell Professor Dumbledore that I then went and mislaid you in the Palace of Bones?"

" 'Why on earth?' Because we are not on earth." Hermione stated. "This is the Land of Mag Mell. And you owe us."

"I beg your pardon!" Snape grated.

"Yeah, too right!" Ron suddenly caught up with where Hermione was going with this. "We've had serious grief here! Not to mention you made Harry think he was about to die. You owe us. You know, that whole 'payment must be made' thingy they have going on here.."

Snape scrutinized them with an unreadable expression on his face. Then he let out a vexed sigh.

"If you insist," he said finally, "who am I to stand between you and your own destruction?"

He reached into his pockets. "Grain. Wool. Salt. Such," he said ironically, "are among those items the well-equipped traveller to the Underworld never goes without. Not that you need to know this, Potter. Because you will never be coming back here. Or at least not until long after you have graduated and ceased to be in any way my responsibility. Is that understood?"

Harry's face wore an expression of gathering hope. "You mean – you have the stuff? And you'll let us do it?"

Snape rolled his eyes upwards. "That is what I have just said, Potter. I was not aware that bodged death curses affected the ears. However, you must be quick, and you must be careful. It would not be ….advisable for us to be here when the Dark Lord re-awakes his shade."

Harry beamed. It was worth nearly dying (again) to have another shot at getting Sirius back.


	9. Chapter Nine: The Palace of Bones

Harry looked very small and alone as he approached the Palace of Bones. It seemed less serene now. Perhaps that had been a glamour laid on it by the Warden, to lull visitors into a false sense of security. It was still just as beautiful in the setting sun, but its shimmering surfaces now appeared treacherous rather than gentle. The intricate towers reminded Harry less of lace and more of needles.

The Warden appeared and barred the path, his squat legs astride.

"Oh," he said snidely, "you're back."

"I've got the things," Harry told him. "Look: grain, wool, salt. Just like you told me."

The gnome-like man snickered. "So, you have the entrance fee. If you wish, you may enter. Do you ask to enter?"

"Yes."

"On your head be it. I believe there is an ancient curse in your world: be careful what you ask for, because you might get it. Rather apt, really."

Harry ignored this. "What do I do after that? How do I find Sirius?"

"Not my problem, boyo. Go on then, if you're going. I have better things to do than hang around here all day talking to you." The Warden stepped aside, and bowed floridly. "Proceed."

Rather hesitantly, Harry did so. The great ivory gate remained firmly barred in his face. However, a much smaller door set within it swung open even before he could raise his hand to knock. Harry had to stoop in order to pass through.

He wasn't sure what to expect. It wasn't, however, what he found.

A dusty track stretched into the distance. It scored a path across a bare and windswept plain. A red sun pulsed in the sky, and the whole scene was suffused with its baleful light. Harry chewed his lip, and then began to walk. He felt very uneasy. _Sirius_, he thought, to keep his courage and his hopes up.

He did not have to walk far before the path forked sharply both to the left and to the right. Ominously, a hangman's gibbet stood in the centre of the three roads. At its foot, beneath the swinging noose, dozed two creatures. They looked, to Harry's eyes, quite identical. Each was about four feet high, dressed all in black, and every bit of their skin that Harry could see was covered in a dense mat of curling hair. He paused. He did not know which way to go: perhaps he should ask these creatures? On the other hand, he noticed, the one on the left had a business-like machete hung around its plump waist, and the one on the right dangled a hangman's hood.

The decision was taken away from him. Even as he stood there, they both leapt up. The one with the machete began to wave it menacingly. Harry stumbled backwards.

"What do you want?" demanded the one on the right. _Not really into small talk then_, thought Harry.

"Why are you here?" asked the one on the left.

"I'm, I'm looking for my Godfather, Sirius. Do you know which way I would need to go to find him – please?"

They smiled, baring sharp little teeth. "Yes. But in return for this information, we want a little something from you." Harry had been expecting this. He really thought the inhabitants of Mag Mell ought to learn the value of the concept of "gift".

"What?" he asked cautiously, hoping it wasn't his right leg or something trivial like that.

"It is very easy. All we want is for you to tell us something about the future."

"If what you say is wrong, you will be beheaded."

"If what you say is right, you will be hanged."

They bared their teeth at him again.

_Great options_, thought Harry despairingly. "But hang on! I already paid my entrance fee!"

"What of it?"

"You have gained entrance."

"Now you want to know which way to go."

"A quite different matter, oh yes. Quite different."

Harry ruffled a hand through his hair. There had to be some way through this. It had to be a riddle of some kind, with some clever answer. Where was Hermione when you needed her? He sat down with his head in his hands. All sorts of answers went through his head, and none of them would get him out of this mess.

Time was passing. Harry began to feel deeply nervous. His brain was overheating, and the more desperate he became to find an answer, the less coherently he could think. Ron, Hermione and Snape were all waiting for him outside, and it couldn't be that long before Voldemort's shade awoke from its little nap. He thought, and thought. It was a hundred times worse than his OWL exams.

He had to say something about the future. How did he even _know_ what was right or wrong about the future? Except, he thought bitterly, that I'm pretty much guaranteed to meet some grisly end, either hanging from a noose or with my head rolling round at my feet. At least - well - he couldn't be beheaded if he _said_ he was going to be beheaded, could he, because then he would have been right about the future, and in that case they would want to hang him. And in _that _case -

Harry considered this carefully. He turned the scenario over and over in his head. He could see no flaw in his logic (which did not, of course, mean that there wasn't one). Then he took in a deep breath.

"All right," he said. "This is my statement about the future. I will be beheaded."

The one on the left bawled with fury and buried his machete in the ground. "I can't behead him!" he howled. "Or he will be right, not wrong!"

The one on the right sat down heavily with his arms folded and a truculent expression on his face. "I can't hang him either! Because then he will be wrong, not right!"

"Well," said Harry, with rising hope. "I've made a statement about the future, just like you asked. Tell me which way to go."

"LEFT," the one sitting sulking snapped without so much as looking up.

Harry scooted off in that direction, looking over his shoulder as he ran. He didn't trust these two executioners not to throw the machete at his back in a tantrum.

* * *

Outside the Palace of Bones, night had fallen. Snape had insisted they sit within a circle inscribed in witch- fire.

"And if you step outside," he advised coldly, "don't expect me to come running out to save you."

"Save us from what?" Ron asked in foreboding.

Snape raised his eyebrows. "Do you really want to know?"

Ron looked queasy, and glanced nervously around. Snape took no notice; he was drumming his long fingers impatiently on his knees.

"Professor Snape," Hermione ventured quietly. "How long do you think we have before…before…you-know-who comes back?"

Snape looked at her dispassionately. "Another couple of hours. And at that point, Miss Granger, we will be leaving."

"But what about Harry?"

"If we do not leave at that time, he will only return to find our corpses anyway. The dark lord will raise the land against us. And this, Miss Granger, is a very dangerous land."

Ron and Hermione exchanged glances. They had no way of telling the time. But however heavily time pressed on them, it still seemed to be ticking away far too fast.

* * *

The path stretched on and on. Harry's spirits sank. This place was desolate, as though everything fruitful had been burned out of it by that dark red sun. He walked, and walked.

He could see something, though. It looked like a very small, stunted tree. Harry trod up to it and inspected it. It had words carved deeply into its scabby grey trunk.

"WELCOME TO EREBUS."

This meant nothing to Harry. Once more, he wished for Hermione and Ron: Hermione because she would probably have known what the sign meant, and Ron because his steadfastness always put heart into Harry. He sighed and took a step forward, past the tree –

– and, with a yell, he found himself toppling into a cavernous pit. He tumbled headlong through empty darkness. It was so black, he did not even see the ground rushing towards him. He slammed into it, and lay there winded for long moments. It felt as though every bone in his body was broken.

Finally, groaning, he managed to sit up. He patted his limbs; everything did seem intact, if battered. He looked around.

This place lay under a swathe of shadows, as though draped in reams of dusty linen. Again, it was bland and bare; there was no indication of what to do next or which way to go. Harry dragged himself to his feet.

Three figures appeared through the greyness. Harry's eyes widened. At first he had thought they were women, but they looked lik3 no woman he had ever seen before. Their hair writhed and hissed like nests of serpents. Black wings beat the air behind them. In their hands, they carried long, thick whips with several scourges attached to each. And their eyes – Harry recoiled from their eyes, which gleamed with the most profound malevolence, and ran constantly with blood. The blood dripped down their cheeks and fell unheeded onto their black robes.

"Who are you?" he stammered fearfully.

"We are the Furies," one of them replied. Her voice was edged with deepest sorrow. "We are the Angry Ones. But our anger is righteous."

"We serve justice," the one in the middle said. Her snakes hissed as if in pride. "For all mortals do that is wrong, it is necessary for them to suffer. They must be punished."

"For any misdeed that has been done, for any hurt inflicted, payment must be made from the torment of your own flesh and heart." Blood dribbled from the third one's pitiless eyes.

"And we," said the first, taking a menacing step towards Harry, "are here to make you pay."


	10. Chapter Ten: Of Guilt and Temptation

"Boy. What have you done! Oh, what have you done!"

The second Fury's snakes hissed reproachfully at him. A tidal wave of anguish swept through Harry's brain. She was right! How worthless he was! He didn't deserve to live! Under the merciless onslaught of the Furies, Harry writhed on the ground in an agony of guilt and remorse.

"Your mother died for you!"

"It's all your fault!"

"If it weren't for you, Sirius wouldn't have died in the first place."

"Oh, boy, boy, worthless boy. How do you live with yourself? After what you have done to those you claim to love?"

"How many people do you think have died or been hurt to save the famous Harry Potter?"

And it was true! Everything they said was true! Harry wept.

"And poor little Harry."

"No-one else suffers as you do, do they?"

"Did you never think of the pain of those around you?"

"Those who do so much to help you and protect you?"

And Harry's mind became filled with heartwrenching images. There was Neville, both of his parents tortured into insanity by the Lestranges. It was years before he had even thought to wonder why Neville lived with his grandmother! There was Ron, always in Harry's shadow, generously offering his unstinting friendship. Lupin, his friends picked off and murdered one by one, dreading every month when he turned into the kind of beast he was sworn to destroy.

"NO!" Harry howled. "NO!"

But it was true, it was all true, how could he bear it, how could he live with himself: the tormenting images gushed through Harry's head like a river in spate.

Hagrid, whose giant mother rejected him and whose human father died; Dean Thomas, whose father had been killed by Voldemort's agents; Mrs Weasley, who lived in constant fear for her courageous family; Ginny, who had been possessed by Voldemort and nobody had even noticed; Dumbledore, dying a little every time one of his friends or agents gave up their lives in the great war; Snape, cowering in a corner while a hook nosed man…

_Snape_, a tiny corner of Harry's mind thought dimly. _Remember your occlumency lessons_.

Guilt skewered him. It pressed against his skull like a crown of thorns. It clawed his flesh with searing pain. It writhed in his belly, a lump of molten metal burning him up from the inside. It was all true. He was selfish, and guilty, and worthless…

_But some of those people love you_, the fragile voice insisted. _They wouldn't want you to feel like this. Did your mother die just so you could collapse crying over it like this? If you don't get out of here, what will become of Ron and Hermione, waiting outside for you with Snape? Snape, occlumency…_

"PROTEGO!" Harry suddenly bawled at the top of his voice, fumbling for his wand. "PROTEGO, PROTEGO!"

The agonies of guilt receded. Harry shuddered in relief. To his fascination, the Furies were retreating with expressions of horror on their dreadful faces. They had raised their hands to their bleeding eyes, and were wailing terribly. Of course, he remembered. The shield charm worked by rebounding the curse upon its originators. The Furies were getting a taste of their own medicine.

"I made him kill himself!"

"He made his mother suffer, but I made him suffer ten times more!"

"She never smiled again after I'd done with her!"

Still screaming self-accusations, the Furies fled, flapping their wings like seagulls caught in a storm.

_Phew_. Harry had a vague sense that things in this place came in threes. If he was correct, that meant he should have one more challenge to go.

The greyness was lifting, like dustcovers being swept away. A much greener and pleasant land spread before him. There were even apple trees in blossom, and a clear stream bubbling to itself.

Just a few metres in front of Harry was a mirror.

Harry approached it. Its surface was blank. It reflected nothing but silvery light. Cautiously he prodded it with his wand.

The mirror cleared and became transparent. Harry's stomach lurched. Standing on the other side of it were his parents and Sirius! They were lounging in an orchard, chatting to each other. Sirius said something that made his mother laugh, and his father good-naturedly threw a stick at him.

He had seen something like this before in the Mirror of Erised, and Dumbledore had told him it offered neither knowledge nor truth. Nevertheless, the familiar pangs of longing gripped his chest. He drank in the scene in the mirror. His father turned round. His mouth opened, and he said something to other two, excitement written in every line of his body. All three jumped up and walked towards the flat glass of the mirror, their faces glowing with surprise and delight.

"Hello, Harry," his mother said softly.

"Harry!" said his father. "We are so proud of you. So proud."

"I can't believe you're really here!" Sirius sounded choked with emotion.

His father was tossing an apple in his hand as once, in Snape's Pensieve, Harry had seen him toss a Golden Snitch. He grinned at Harry, and ran a hand through his black hair.

"Harry," his mother said seriously. "We need to talk to you."

"It's getting really rough out there." His dad's voice was soft. "Anything could happen. Look how many times you've nearly been killed."

Tears filled his mother's great green eyes, and began to well over onto her cheeks. "I couldn't bear if anything more happened to you, Harry! We are just so powerless to help you now."

"Thank goodness you made it here to talk to us. We have something very important to say to you. The truth is, Harry, we think you've done enough." His father's voice was very gentle. He had put an arm comfortingly around his wife's shoulders. "You have already suffered so much. And Harry, there will be even more suffering to come."

Harry's mouth had dropped open a little. "Wh- what? What do you mean?"

"Come and join us!" Sirius burst in. His eyes shone. "It's great here, Harry. Really great. And you could be with us, for always. Isn't that what you want? Isn't that what you've always wanted?"

It was. It was exactly what Harry wanted. To be with his real family. A smile began to spread over his face. Could it really be possible?

"How?" he asked eagerly. "What would I have to do?"

"It's easy, Harry," his mother cried. "All you have to do –"

"- is eat this!"

And the apple his father had been throwing up and down was flung through the mirror. With the reflexes of Quidditch, Harry's hand shot out automatically to catch it. He stared at it. It looked just like any old apple.

"That's all you need to do," Sirius said intensely. He had come right up to the surface of the mirror. "Eat the apple, and you can be with us."

"Oh Harry!" His mother was crying and laughing at the same time. "I just can't wait!"

Harry raised the apple to his lips. Like they said, it would be so easy. A spurt of joy made him laugh aloud. He looked in his mother's green eyes and smiled. He opened his mouth –

_What about Ron and Hermione?_ the little voice at the back of his brain asked.

Harry pushed the thought aside. They would wait for a while in the valley of the Palace of Bones, but Snape would drag them back to Hogwarts before long. They'd be fine. They'd be a lot safer without a best mate like him to drag them into danger after danger, that was for sure.

_What about the prophecy?_ _Aren't you the only one who can bring down Voldemort?_

Resentment surged through Harry. Why _should_ everything always seem to come down to him? Snape accused him of thinking he was different, that he was special. Maybe he did. But how could he not? _He_ was the Boy Who Lived. _He_ was the one stuck with a prophecy saying he had to meet and overthrow the darkest lord of all time. Great fate-line to have, that one! It wasn't as if he had asked for any of this: no-one had a right to expect it of him. It was like his parents said. He had done enough.

"Harry?" His mother's voice sounded distressed. "What's the matter? Don't you want to be with us?"

"Of course I do!" Harry shouted, in an agony of indecision.

The dreadful images inflicted on him by the Furies ran through his head. They were all suffering so much. All of them. And perhaps – perhaps he really was the only one who could truly make a difference. Or was this what Hermione called his _saving-people-thing_ talking again? Did he really think he was that important to the fight against Voldemort?

_Dumbledore does_, the small voice pointed out. A number of phrases from his very first year at Hogwarts whirled through his mind.

_"It takes a great deal of bravery to stand up to our enemies, but just as much to stand up to our friends._" Dumbledore.

"_That's chess. You've got to make sacrifices._"Ron.

_"There are more important things – friendship and bravery –_" Hermione.

And then, very vividly, the image of that awful occasion in the Ministry of Magic, when Voldemort had tried so hard to get Dumbledore to kill him. One thing was for sure: Voldemort really, really wanted him out of the way…

"I can't do it!" Harry yelled suddenly. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, I can't come and be with you. I have to go back."

Tears streamed down his face. Before he lost his resolution, he stretched back his arm, and hurled the apple back through the mirror.

His father caught it. Harry watched his mother, his father and Sirius as their shocked faces faded away as if someone had run a wet cloth over chalked images. He was still crying.

He wiped his eyes, and took one last look at the mirror.

It was not empty, though. Sirius was there. A different Sirius, a different scene. This Sirius was alone, sitting under a tree and skimming stones across a lake. For some reason, Harry got the impression that he was very melancholy.

This Sirius turned around. He saw Harry staring at him through the flat surface of the mirror.

"HARRY!" he yelled. An expression of the most utter dismay spread across his face.


	11. Chapter Eleven: Through the Mirror

_AN_. _Thank you, thank you to all those who have submitted reviews. I really appreciate it – it's very encouraging to know people are reading and (hopefully) enjoying it; I've just started writing fic and this is only my second story! Jinny. (One more chapter epilogue to go...)_

Sirius stretched a disbelieving arm out towards Harry. The hand broke though the surface of the mirror and waggled in front of him. Next moment, Sirius' entire body had followed suit. It was like watching someone step through a waterfall.

"Harry!" he cried again. His grey eyes were dark with apprehension. "What are you doing here? You're not – Please tell me you're not! - "

"Dead?" Harry said with a breathless laugh. "No, not me. Just visiting. Sirius..is it really you this time? Last time I tried to hug you, you turned into a demon thing!"

Sirius gave his barking laugh, and flung back his long dark hair. It gleamed in glossy health. In fact, Harry had never seen him look so well. "Yes, it's me. Snuffles. Padfoot. Satisfied now?"

"_Sirius_." Harry beamed with satisfaction. Next moment, they were hugging each other fiercely. Harry felt tears welling up again, but this time in joy.

"Harry. It is so good to see you. But what are you doing here? You shouldn't be here, it's really dangerous."

But from the light in Sirius' eyes, Harry knew that really he was proud of his daring. It was an exploit worthy of the Marauders in their prime.

"So how are you?" Sirius stared intently into his face.

And then it all gushed out. Harry knew he really should save all this for later, that his friends and Snape outside would be getting anxious (well, perhaps not Snape), but he couldn't help himself. It had been so long since he had seen Sirius.

"Now listen to me," Sirius said. "I mean this, Harry. It was –not – your – fault. Get it?"

"But if I hadn't been tricked…"

Sirius shook him gently. "Then Voldemort would have found some other way to get you to the Department of Mysteries, and I would still have gone rushing after you and ignored anyone who told me otherwise. Or that toe-rag Kreacher would've found some other way to stuff me up. Look, Harry, I mean this. It was my choice. The biggest, the worst regret is that it meant I ended up leaving you. But it wasn't your fault, and I know I can trust Dumbledore and Lupin to look after you."

Harry smiled up at him, his eyes gleaming in anticipation. Sirius was going to be so pleased with the next bit! "But Sirius, it's all right, you don't have to leave me! The best part of it is, we can bring you back with us!"

Sirius looked cautious suddenly. "What do you mean, Harry?"

"Essence of Mag Mell, the potion that brought us here, we brought enough to take you back with us as well…"

The smiled faded on Harry's lips. Sirius did not appear suitably elated. In fact, he was rubbing his chin distractedly and looking at Harry with something oddly akin to pity on his face.

* * *

Snape was pacing now, within the small circle of fire he had drawn. Occasionally he muttered under his breath. From time to time he glanced upwards, as though trying to read something in the heavens.

Ron and Hermione huddled next to each other. Time was marching on. _Oh, for something to slow down time_, Hermione thought desperately. But probably it wouldn't function properly in this place anyway. She had a suspicion that time worked quite differently here.

Snape's hooked nose was silhouetted against the flames. He turned towards them.

"It is time to leave, Weasley, Granger."

"But Harry –"

"We have had this conversation already, I believe."

Snape looked extremely forbidding. Ron and Hermione slowly got to their feet.

The expression on Snape's face turned to one of sheer exasperation. "And I am sure we have had this conversation already as well. _Stop pointing your puny little wands at me!_"

* * *

Sirius was compassionate.

"It wouldn't work, Harry," he said quietly. "No, Harry, don't look at me like that. It won't work. Really." He gripped Harry's shoulder. "You see, Harry, I am not part of the mortal living world any longer. I can't go back, not like this, not with a potion. On the other hand, I'm not part of the mortal world of death either. I am here in Mag Mell, and this is not a proper place for us. Can't you tell? Every bone of this land resists our presence."

Harry was dismayed. It was as though Dudley Dursley had punched him, hard, in the stomach. "But – but – "

"Now," said Sirius, to distract him. "Tell me all about how you got here."

Harry obeyed. Part of his mind continued to run painfully on the fact that he wouldn't be taking Sirius back with him after all. But he was with him here, and now, and he had to make the most of it.

Sirius listened seriously to all Harry had to say. A frown was gathering on his face.

"You mean you've been sitting here with me all this time, Harry, when Lord Voldemort could be coming back any minute?"

"Er – " Harry was abashed.

"And, Harry. What you said about Snape.. I can't believe he used Avada on you, the greasy-haired git!"

Harry twitched uncomfortably. "He was trying to save us, Sirius. Voldemort was following him around so he didn't have a whole lot of choice..and he did save us from the Bane Birds as well, twice…"

Sirius looked mutinous. "I don't care. There is always more going on with Snivellus Snape than meets the eye. Don't trust him, Harry, understand?"

This advice was so exactly in line with Harry's natural inclinations that he had no trouble at all nodding his head and taking Sirius' words to heart.

"And another thing," Sirius continued darkly, warming to his theme, "why did Snape let you come here? And all on your own, as well?"

"Hermione convinced him – she said he owed us, and this was Mag Mell, so he had to pay."

"Won't wash," Sirius said shortly. "Interactions between mortals aren't subject to the same rules. Snivellus must have had his own reasons. I don't like this, Harry. I don't like it at all. Listen, talk to Lupin about it when you get back, OK? It's the one thing Dumebledore just has this real blind spot about – he will persist in thinking he can trust Snape."

Sirius shook himself. "Never mind. We don't want to spend our time together talking about oily old Snivelly. In fact, Harry.. I really think we'd better see about getting you back."

Sirius grinned at him, but Harry knew Sirius too well. The cheer on his face was just that little bit too forced. His Godfather didn't really want him to go.

He remembered the previous scene in the mirror, which had (he thought achingly) obviously been just a mirage. And yet, it had reminded him of something, something that woman (?) on the shore had said.

"I could stay with you," he said abruptly. "I could eat something. I'd be stuck here then, wouldn't I?"

"Harry." Sirius rumpled Harry's black hair. "You know you couldn't do that, right?"

Harry did know. He looked at his feet, and kicked a random stone out of the way.

"Besides," Sirius went on. Harry shot him a quick look. The glint of mischief was back in Sirius' voice. "You don't think I'm planning on just sitting here, do you?"

"What do you mean?" Harry asked. His hopes began to soar again.

Sirius considered him thoughtfully. "I really shouldn't tell you this. But when did I ever let that stop me, eh? Poor old Molly," he added affectionately. Harry was reminded of all the times in 12, Grimmauld Place when Mrs Weasley had attempted, ineffectually, to stop Sirius telling him of matters she considered too dangerous or disturbing for him, Hermione and Ron to know.

"OK, Harry, this is how I see it." Sirius was guiding Harry towards a walled garden not far away. "This isn't a good place for me to be. Oh, it's a marvellous place in its way. This is Tir na nOg, did you realize that?" (Harry hadn't. He filed the name away until he could consult with Hermione.) "That's the Land of Youth. Elysium, it's called sometimes. But it's a faerie realm, Harry. Mortals don't really fit. It's like – "

Sirius paused thoughtfully and regarded the sky.

"This is a place of ancient, heavy magic. It runs deeper than worlds. It's as if a bird had got trapped in the old, gnarled roots of a tree instead of up where it belonged, in the branches.."

They were entering the walled garden now. The air was heady with the scent of herbs and flowers.

"So what are you going to do?" Harry asked, fascinated.

"Do? One of two things! I'm just resting up a bit, and then I'll be on my way. Either I'll find my way to the mortal resting place, and join Lily and James at last, or –"

"What? Or what?"

"Or I'll find the Cauldron of Bran." Sirius' eyes gleamed. "And then, Harry, it's you I'll be coming back to. Because the Cauldron of Bran restores the dead to mortal life."

They were standing now before a door set in crumbling old stones. It was weathered and mossy, and its latch was encrusted with lichens.

Harry and Sirius looked at each other. "OK, "Sirius said gruffly. "This is what you need to do, right? I'll open this door, and you must think really hard of your mates and the Valley of the Palace of Bones. That'll get you back to Ron and Hermione, and" (Sirius tried to suppress a grimace, but didn't really manage it) "to Snape."

"You need to go now, Harry," Sirius said gently. His eyes were glistening, as well as Harry's.

He opened the door. Harry looked through. All he saw was a swirling mass of grey matter, flecked with impossible colours.

"Remember," Sirius said sharply. "Take your mind off me. You need to concentrate on where you're going. And Harry, don't come back. It really is too dangerous with Voldemort's shade floating around. Besides -"

Harry took one last, longing look at his Godfather. Sirius was laughing now, a new energy vibrating in his body.

"Besides," Sirius went on. "I may not be here. I'm off – as Dumbledore puts it - on the next great adventure!"

That was the last thing Harry heard as he stepped through the door. _The Valley of the Palace of Bones_, he muttered to himself. _The Valley of the __Palace__ of __Bones_.

He was there! He blinked in the darkness while his eyes readjusted themselves. Now, where were his friends?

"OI!" he suddenly yelled indignantly. "WAIT FOR ME!"

. 


	12. Chapter Twelve: You May Not Pass

Ron and Hermione swung around in relief. They had been advancing purposefully up the valley side, wands out before them.

"It's OK, Harry," Hermione said composedly. "We weren't leaving."

Harry absorbed the scene in front of him. Ron and Hermione had been stalking up the slope, wands raised threateningly. Snape lay flat on his back some distance away looking as furious as Harry had ever seen him. Harry guessed he had been hit, hard, by two violently delivered _expelliarmus_ curses.

"Here." Hermione tossed Snape's wand back over to him, and he scrambled to his feet with a menacing noise in his throat.

Harry blinked. Had he really just seen Hermione, coolly, calmly, take on Snape? A _teacher_?

It seemed so.

Snape recovered his poise quickly, although he still looked extremely annoyed.

"Very entertaining, Weasley, Granger. You will not make Aurors, you know, if you persist in letting your emotions overrule your judgement. You will hear more of this later, I can assure you. However, now Potter has deigned to rejoin us, the most important thing is to depart. As fast as we may."

Hermione and Ron had lost interest in Snape, however, and were looking at Harry anxiously. "Er – Sirius – ?" Ron tried tentatively.

Harry shook his head. "Couldn't bring him with me," he said flatly. "But I spoke to him, I'll tell you later. For now – we really do have to get out of here."

Snape cast his eyes towards the heavens. "Potter finally shows a glimmering of sense," he muttered under his breath. "We will need a speed spell," he told them. "And, we will - ah - need to hold onto each other."

Snape regarded them with curling lip and an expression of the utmost repugnance. He was clearly considering which one of them he could best cope with actually touching. Finally, with the manner of one picking up a man-eating spider in his bare hands, he grabbed Hermione's arm. Ron took hold of her as well, and Harry hung on to Ron.

The speed spell was dizzying. "_Think – of – shore!" _they heard Snape telling them repeatedly through the rushing winds and choking mists.

They did. The journey was swift, but not swift enough, and nor was it pleasant. At last (at _long_ last, as Ron said bitterly) they flopped down on the beach gasping for breath, and feeling as if they had just been smothered by barrel-loads of wet fish.

The shore was just as it had been when they arrived. The wet sands shone silver in the metallic light, and the sea roiled darkly. There was no sign of the kelpies.

"You may now drink your potions," instructed Snape, fetching his own from under his robes.

They each drew out their bottles and all four swallowed what remained of the Essence of Mag Mell. Harry was subconsciously filling his lungs with air prior to his immersion.

This time, though, they were not plunged into the waters. Instead, the air some metres in front of them began to swirl. Round and round it went, faster and faster, until a churning vortex hung before them. Harry looked at it sideways, and could have sworn strange beings were darting about within it like silvery eels.

"We had better keep in contact with each other again when we go through," Snape said reluctantly.

They rose and approached the vortex. Before they were within six metres of it, the tall, cloaked figure they had seen before shimmered into existence in front of them. It raised its head to confront them with the shrouded depths beneath its hood, and it spread its arms to bar their passage.

"You may pass," it said to Snape, "but these three may not."

The being's voice flowed towards them, cold and dispassionate as liquid ice.

"What do you mean?" Snape demanded, his eyes hard.

"They may not pass."

She, or he, or it, said nothing more. Its silence had the implacability of a glacier.

Snape turned to Harry, Hermione and Ron. "Did you," he demanded softly, "did you by chance eat or drink anything from this place?"

They shook their heads. "No really, Professor Snape," Hermione assured him earnestly. "We didn't, not even when we were really thirsty. We didn't even use wands to conjure drinking water in case it would turn out actually have come from here."

Snape seemed marginally soothed by their response. "Did you then – did you take anything from this realm that was neither freely given nor paid for?"

Again, they shook their heads. Hermione, however, let out a sudden gasp; she clapped a hand to her mouth. Ron and Harry looked at her in puzzlement.

Snape put a hand to his brow and closed his eyes. His fingers trembled slightly.

"Even for you," he said to them in a low, even, tone, "whatever you have done, it was an act of quite staggering stupidity! Do you not understand? This realm abides by the old laws. It is a place of blood magic, of sacrificial magic. Have you never read any of the ancient tales? Did it never enter your heads to wonder _why_ this place is considered so dangerous?"

Hermione (of course) remembered very well what Snape was referring to: ". . . _what you take but do not pay for, you will forfeit in the sacrifice of your living flesh_". She did not like the sound of this: at all.

Snape turned to the being.

"State the nature of the debt. If," he added rather bitterly, "by so doing, you do not decide we have incurred yet another debt."

"It is permitted to tell you of these things." The voice remained devoid of anything resembling emotion. It was pitiless as the stars. "There is one matter before us."

"_What_?" Snape folded his arms and glowered.

"It is a matter of advice given. Upon your entry into this place," it addressed Harry, Hermione and Ron, "you asked me how to find the one you sought. I told you."

"But," Harry stammered in indignation," I didn't realize! I didn't know! You never said!"

"You had been told the rules of this place, mortal one. And those rules were in fact, given to you freely: there was no onus on me to tell you of them. And now.. I choose to make my claim. It is long since we have had mortal flesh for the ancient Sacrifice."

"_Why_," Snape was hissing at them under his breath, "can you never do as you are _told_!"

The being raised its silvery arms towards the skies. A weighing scale appeared before them. One side of the balance pans was heavily weighted down with a dark, pulsating mass. Curiously, this dark mass seemed to be composed of emptiness itself. It put Hermione in mind of the essence of the void.

"See," it whispered fluidly. "This is what you owe to us."

It folded its arms and gazed into the distance.

"And what," Snape demanded, "would you estimate this debt to be worth in weight of human flesh?"

It assessed the scales. "A leg from one of these children here should suffice. You may choose amongst yourselves as to which. It matters not to us." The gleaming figure might as well have demanded a handkerchief, or a spare pencil, for all the feeling in its words. "Or, if you prefer, you may offer your arm instead. It is not your debt, but we would accept it from you in lieu."

From the look on Snape's face, Harry guessed this option was not high on his list of priorities.

"Well," Ron said to Harry in a sickly voice, "Madam Pomfrey is really good, isn't she? Not much she can't heal! And, and there's always St. Mungo's!"

Harry had a suspicion that regrowing entire limbs lost in this fashion might be beyond even magical healing abilities. Otherwise, so many of the Aurors would not still bear such deep scars of conflict. His thoughts flicked to Mad-Eye.

"Take my leg!" he blurted out, before he could spend too much time considering the consequences of what he was saying. Snape was regarding him strangely again. "It's all my fault; no-one would even be here if it weren't for me! So take it from me." Almost, in the corner of his eyes, he could see three snake-haired women with bleeding eyes.

"As you wish." The figure shrugged, indifferent. It stretched out a hand. A long silver blade began to coalesce from the silver mists. "Lie down. It will be easier to attain a clean stroke."

_At least it looks sharp_, Harry thought miserably, bracing himself. And he'd still be alive, it could have been worse. Harry's knees were trembling so much that he sank to the sands almost with relief. His heart was thudding against the walls of his chest.

It all happened very quickly. Harry did not have time to dread what was about to come. Snape had only just begun to extend his hand as if in protest, and Ron and Hermione to exclaim in horror. Then, abruptly, it was already over. They stood frozen. Harry thrashed and jerked on the sands, blood gushing from his upper thigh, uttering thin and incoherent screams. Hermione was pressing her fist hard against her mouth, and Ron was absolutely white beneath his freckles.

The ball of emptiness drifted out from the scales. These now hovered in perfect balance. Snape sank swiftly to his knees besides Harry and started muttering charms to stem the spouts of blood. Like Ron and Hermione, he looked quite ill.

"I have this correctly, don't I," Hermione spoke up shrilly. Everyone turned to look at her in surprise. "Everything has its price, right? For whatever is taken, payment must be made?"

"That is correct," the figure said, almost absently. It looked at Harry, and stretched out a hand to pick up his leg.

Hermione was speaking again.

"Then," she proclaimed with an odd note of triumph in her voice, "you may take your pounds of flesh, but with it, not one drop of blood!"

Everybody froze. The figure paused in the very act of gathering up Harry's leg.

"In fact," Hermione continued; her voice was quavering, but she drove on with determination, "you are in our debt now. You have wronged us. You have taken from us something you are not entitled to. Harry's leg, that is: not only flesh, but also blood and bone. We want payment."

The being lowered its sword. "And what payment would you seek for this supposed error?"

Hermione smiled grimly. "Heal him. Return his leg."

The being made no reply. Merely it knelt by Harry's side, and rejoined his leg to his body. To Harry it was as if he could feel flesh and bone and sinew putting out new tendrils and twining together. It was a peculiar sensation, but it did not hurt. The pain vanished as swiftly as it had been inflicted. He lay flat, shock rendering him immobile.

"Pass, then," the being breathed. "Debts have been paid. You may pass."

The figure dissolved.

Harry managed to sit up, and found Hermione had flung herself down beside him to hug him fiercely. He grinned shakily at her.

"All better, Potter?" Snape inquired. His hands were entwined in his robes as if to hide the fact that they were still trembling.

Harry nodded, and proved the truth of it by getting to his feet. He still felt very wobbly indeed, but his leg seemed just as it always had done.

"Hermione," breathed Ron. "How brilliant are you! How did you think of that?"

"Shakespeare. It's how Portia gets Antonio off in _A Merchant of Venice_." Hermione smiled modestly. "It's a very well-known story."

"Whew."

Ron shook his head in awe. Even Snape was looking at Hermione with something approximating to approval.

"And now, let us finally depart before the Gate closes."

Holding on to one another, one by one they stepped through the vortex.


	13. Chapter Thirteen: Epilogue

They collapsed in a tangled heap by the lake at Hogwarts, at just the spot from which they had departed in the first place. The moon was still high in the sky. It appeared as though only a little time could have passed in this world since they had been gone. Snape extricated himself from the others as swiftly as possible.

Dumbledore was sitting underneath a tree. He rose, smiling broadly.

"Welcome! I am pleased to have you all back here, and all in one piece, it would seem. Very well done for that, Miss Granger. You gave me some very bad moments, all of you, some very bad moments indeed."

He bore them back to the Castle, attending as well as he could to the several stories being poured into his ears. Snape paced behind, his robes billowing out so he resembled a bat in flight.

" - Bane birds - "

" - the bit about blood magic nearly -"

" - don't understand, Professor, why -

"We shall speak more fully of these things tomorrow," Dumbledore finally said kindly, as they entered the school. "Now, though, I feel that you three should, yet again, go and trouble Madam Pomfrey's slumbers. I wish you to go immediately to the hospital wing: especially you, Harry. You are still in shock. Severus, could I speak to you after that if I may?"

"Honestly, Professor," Harry said earnestly, "we don't need the hospital."

"Humour me in this," Dumbledore said to him, "the Land of Mag Mell has strange properties, and I would feel much more comfortable if Madam Pomfrey took a look at you all as soon as possible. As I said, you may come to see me tomorrow. I daresay there are a number of matters you still wish to discuss."

"Professor," Hermione asked, "how did you know -?"

"I have been watching you in my scry-glass, Miss Granger. My inner eye is not quite so prophetic as Professor Trelawney's, but perhaps it is a little more – reliable!"

"And their punishment, Headmaster?" Snape inquired. "When will you decide their punishment for this exceedingly idiotic expedition?"

"Ah, Professor Snape," Dumbledore murmured, his beard twitching rather. "It really is my impression that they have – er – been punished enough during the course of events. I am reasonably certain that even Argus Filch would stop short of meting out death-curses and amputations in his quest for retribution. You may, of course, devise your own penalty for Mr Weasley and Miss Granger here. Although that was, if I may so, a very well delivered double _expelliarmus_!"

"Rest assured," Snape snapped at them, "that I will do so. My office. Five o'clock tomorrow."

Snape hovered impatiently while Dumbledore saw Harry, Hermione and Ron safely settled in Madam Pomfrey's hands. The three of them did have to admit, privately, that baths, food, chocolate, and healing charms really were most welcome. Harry found that he was completely exhausted. Madam Pomfrey dosed him with several very strong tonic potions, all of which tasted utterly vile. She clucked around them, shaking her head.

"Severus," Dumbledore said to him as they walked away together. "I really cannot tell you how grateful I am to you. I fear I did not foresee that Lord Voldemort would make himself known, even there in Mag Mell…"

Snape made a noise in his throat. "I must confess, Headmaster, it came as rather an unwelcome surprise to me as well."

"How will you deal with the consequences when Voldemort discovers, as he surely will, that all three of them are still alive and back at Hogwarts?"

"I will tell him that as he himself had been unable to kill the Potter boy with the Avada curse, it was foolish of me to think that I could despatch him that way. I will tell him one of the creatures in that land must have helped them to escape, and that I have since performed an Obliviate Charm on them so they have no recollection of meeting either me or him while they were there."

"And what will he think you have told me, Severus?" Dumbledore inquired.

"Why, naturally, how sorry I am that, despite strenuous effort, I was simply unable to locate them, and never saw them at all ….He will be most displeased that Potter has escaped him yet again." Snape paused bleakly. "I will be punished, of course."

They sat together in Dumbledore's office. Dumbledore examined Snape's pale features and changed the subject.

"It was a risk, Severus, but I do believe you did the right thing in allowing Harry to go to the Palace of Bones. It was," (and Dumbledore's beard once more twitched slightly) "a most compassionate impulse on your part."

Snape looked surly. "I am not prey to compassionate impulses, Headmaster."

"Of course not, Severus, of course not. However, I suspect that having such a conversation with Sirius was the only thing which really could have helped Harry to overcome his grief. I have been most worried about him, most worried indeed. Now… he may finally cease to dwell on his own part in the tragedies of that night in the Ministry."

"Albus," Snape asked abruptly. "What did you think when – I was obliged to use the Avada curse - ?"

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow in surprise. "Why, that you were engaged in some ploy to trick Lord Voldemort of course. I was worried about Harry, Ron and Hermione, naturally. It was a perilous moment and much could have gone wrong. However, as I have told you before, Severus: I trust you."

* * *

It was the next evening. Harry, Ron and Hermione were alone in the Gryffindor common room. Harry and Ron were desperately trying to finish some homework which they should have done the night before. Hermione was reading a book (she had already done her homework on the day it was set.) It was warm, and cosy, and peaceful. The fire flickered in the grate.

"Hermione," Ron moaned. "Can't you just help with –"

"No, Ron," Hermione said firmly. "You need to do it yourself."

"If only we hadn't had to spend three hours in detention with Snape." Ron grumbled. "Cutting up slimy dead things."

"I told you, didn't I, that Sirius wants me to speak to Lupin about Snape," said Harry. "He thinks there's something going on…"

"Harry!" Hermione said in exasperation. "How many times..! Professor Snape saved all of us in the Land of Mag Mell, you know. And that wasn't for the first time, either."

"Sirius still thinks he has his own agenda," Harry insisted stubbornly.

"Sirius.. well, Sirius and Snape, they do kind of have issues with each other, don't they? Sirius may not be the most…objective…person when it comes to Snape…"

Hermione and Ron waited rather nervously, but to their relief this implied criticism of Sirius did not rouse Harry to wrath, as it had so often done before. Harry just lay down his quill and watched the fire wistfully, as though Sirius' head might pop up in it just one last time.

"Harry…" Hermione said after a pause, resting her book on her knees. "I really am sorry about Sirius. You know – that after all, in the end, we weren't able to bring him back."

Harry continued to stare into the fire for a long moment. Then he turned his head, and smiled. It had been some time since Ron and Hermione had seen Harry smile in quite that way, as if he really meant it.

"Don't be. I've seen him, I've spoken to him. That helped, Hermione. It really did. And…it's not over yet, is it? Sirius said so. Sirius is on a quest…. The greatest quest any of the Marauders ever went on…"

Hermione glanced quickly behind her. It was silly, she knew. But almost she thought she had heard the padding footfalls of a large animal. And if she looked sidewise, out of the corner of her eyes, she could almost believe a bear-like black dog was sitting beside them, its tongue lolling.

"Hello, Padfoot," Hermione murmured under her breath and, smiling, she returned to her book.

_**A/N: **If you enjoyed my story, or have constructive comments, **please review!** Thanks!_


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